


Sunrise and Names

by Kingshammer



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Gen, Playing around with canon, Pre-Relationship, Timeline AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24657196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingshammer/pseuds/Kingshammer
Summary: Maria Hill, still a relatively newer Agent of SHIELD, doesn't know what to make of the Black Widow. And really, it's just a miracle she didn't knock the assassin over the first time they meet.
Relationships: Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 6
Kudos: 105





	Sunrise and Names

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you’re hanging in there in these trying times. I don’t usually step onto soapboxes, but I’m going to for just a moment. If you’re not interested, feel free to skip to the story (or not, going back is fine too). Trigger warning for references to suicide in this author’s note (just the note, not the actual story). 
> 
> Like many of you, I write/read fanfiction for fun. It’s a delightful outlet and neat way of connecting with (potentially) like-minded people. I'm not a great writer, not by a long shot. I invite constructive criticism because I’d love to be better at this (or at least not allow my imagination to dwindle under the pressure of regular life). 
> 
> I'm posting a story in response to a 'first' I experienced today. I wasn't sure I'd ever actually post this one, but here we are.
> 
> I received a comment on one of my stories today that really set the wheels in my brain turning. It’s an older story, from 2018, just a quick one-shot I wrote to write. To paraphrase some, the person who commented (who I will NOT name) expressed that they didn’t appreciate the content, alluding to a dislike for the characters and the political theme(s) this person inferred from the story. 
> 
> After expressing their dislike for the “garbage” that was the story, they then charmingly made a request, posing to me this: “Would you kindly go fucking kill yourself?” 
> 
> At first, I was caught off guard because this is NOT feedback I’m used to receiving (and if you are, I’m so so sorry). I generally expect that if someone doesn’t like something I write, they will ignore it, and exercise their freedom to not read and move on to one of the many incredible works available on AO3. 
> 
> I’m not ignorant to the reality that there are mean people in the world. I work in a field that regularly exposes me to the best and worst of humanity on a regular basis. I have been called just about every imaginable derogatory name for a female. I’m cool with it, particularly because the people that are nasty in this way usually do it to my face. Fortunately, the comment today didn't send me spiraling, but at a different time in my life, that may not have been the case. 
> 
> What really alarmed me about this comment today was that Commenter-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was willing to toss that question out to a complete stranger. They had no knowledge of my mental health history, potential struggles, past experiences, or potential trauma induced triggers. 
> 
> My general distaste (and eye roll) turned from “well that wasn’t very nice” to “holy shit, what if they’d said this to someone who was on their last thread?” 
> 
> Times are tough right now. People are enduring previously inconceivable hardships. There’s a lot of hurt and brokenness in the world. I know that in a lot of ways these hardships have already and always been there for some. I’m sorry. I hope to grow in humility and better understanding of those circumstances. 
> 
> The comment today reminded me that there are people who are barely hanging on right now. If that’s you, please know, you are not alone. You are loved, you are precious, and you are worthy. Your life matters. If it’s you who’s on the edge, say something to someone, anyone. In the end note, I’m going to post the Wikipedia page link for suicide hotlines around the world. Give yourself a chance, please. 
> 
> To round out this note, I’ll leave off with two points. First, to anyone thinking I’m taking one comment too seriously, and that it was likely “a joke”, well, I’ll say this: downplaying an injustice simply allows the unjust to continue in their abuse. No one should have to wait to receive a plethora of these types of comments to call them out as ugly and wrong. My second point is this: I know there are a lot of issues and injustices going on in the world at this very moment. But this was today’s conviction for me. 
> 
> The very least we can do right now is be kind to one another. It takes even less effort than cruelty. 
> 
> If you’ve gotten to this point, thank you. If this is all you read, thank you. If you read the story and like it, awesome. If not, that’s okay too. I’d love to hear what you think, even if you didn’t like it. But if you’re going to ask me or anyone to kill or harm themselves, help yourself to the back button and enjoy ignoring this and anything else that offends your sensibilities.

It was an  accident, the first time Maria saw her. She'd left the secondary pistol she'd wanted to bring to the armory in her quarters by mistake, so a break had her dashing back to grab it. She'd retrieved the pistol and was power walking back to the armory with as much composure as possible and almost walked headlong into the procession that was entering from the landing pad on the helicarrier.

She drew up short, shuffling back quickly to avoid the attention of Director Pierce and Deputy Director Fury. She succeeded with the former, but the latter, for all he only had one eye, always seemed to know exactly what was happening around him and tossed Maria a knowing smirk.

The back of Maria’s neck heated with  embarrassment , but she kept her face smooth. 

The directors and their  entourage of assistants and guards passed, followed by another ring of guards . This time her eyes widened when she recognized  a mauled looking Clint Barton and a stony faced Phil Coulson walking at its center.

She was so caught off by Barton’s  relative silence that it took her a moment to realize that ,  between the pair of them,  walked another figure with her head down, eyes to the ground .

The woman's red hair looked  dull  and  tired . Her skin was covered in bruises and blood was still  oozing sluggishly from a number of cuts on her face and hands.

As though she could feel Maria's stare, she looked up and immediately locked eyes with the young agent. It was then  Maria saw the woman's eyes were green. 

Quite suddenly - the armed guards, the presence of the directors, the heavy electronic shackles on the woman's wrists, Barton and Coulson's serious demeanors - it all made sense. 

And Maria couldn't suppress the chill that shot down her spine or the sudden, uneasy tightness in her throat.

Despite her discomfort, or maybe because of it, she couldn't bring herself to look away from the Black Widow. She'd never seen eyes that looked so empty and haunted. Even her father had looked at her with spite and resentment, but never emptiness.

The Widow just, didn't have anything.

The moment lengthened, time dilating, stretching out the moment as though its singular purpose was to allow Maria to look her fill. And look she did, unable to shake the disparity between the reputation of the Black Widow and this shell of a woman in front of her now.

Inevitably, time snapped to, the moment over, and quite suddenly Maria was in the hall alone.

She took a deep breath, mildly surprised she was able to do so and irritated  at her visceral response to eye contact with the Black Widow . She straightened her spine and with a  firm shake of her head to dispel her unsteadiness , resumed her journey to the armory.

/

It was months before Maria saw the Black Widow again and, like the first time, she was entirely unprepared for the encounter. 

In truth, she’d been looking for Coulson. She was preparing an ops plan for a relatively low risk mission and Coulson had made it clear he enjoyed proofreading Maria's work.

At his muffled “come in” Maria entered his office, not sparing a thought to the idea he might already have company. So naturally she startled slightly when she entered to see the woman sitting comfortably in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

The Widow’s eyes  scanned h er, her expression unreadable.  Coulson for his part appeared amused. After a moment, Maria  forced her face into schooled indifference and cleared her throat.

“ Good evening. ” She greets the room  collectively ,  realizing she has no clue what to even call the Black Widow in  a casual setting.

“Hey Maria,” Coulson greeted easily, his amusement relaxing into a genuine smile. It subsequently caused Maria to relax as well, at least marginally.

“I'm sorry to interrupt. I have that report we talked about,” she said, waiving the file folder slightly. His gentle smile continued as he extended his hand to take it. He glanced between the Black Widow and Maria, noting the agent was pointedly not looking at the assassin.

“Maria, have you met Natalia Romanova formally?” he asked, calmly flipping through the file. Maria’s panic manifested only in the rapid twitch of her eyes from Coulson to the Widow, her expression still unreadably blank.

“Not formally, no,” Maria said stiffly.

“Special Agent  Maria Hill,  Special Agent Natali a Romanova,” he recite d smoothly, not bothering to  look up from the folder.

“Pleasure,” Maria  said curtly , eyes glancing at the assassin and almost immediately cutting away . The Widow’s eyes  narrowed just slightly and a tiny  smirk curled up the corner of her lips.

“The feeling, I'm sure, is mutual,”  the Widow responded.  Maria heard the subtle sarcasm and a frown involuntarily  blossomed across her features. The Widow’s smirk widened.

“Romanova,” said Coulson mildly, not bothering to look up. From anyone but Coulson, it would’ve been a warning, but he posed it as almost an unspoken suggestion. The Widow rolled her eyes. Maria cleared her throat again.

“Phil, I'll just leave that with you,” Maria said, back ramrod straight, now pointedly ignoring the assassin. Phil glanced up, smile still gentle. 

“It looks good so far. I'll see what we can do about getting it green lighted,”  he said. Maria felt the back of her neck heat up at the praise.

“I'll be surprised if it is. But thank you,” she said. She nodded to him and the Black Widow and as quickly as she could manage without actually running, left the room.

Once she was a few corridors away, she sagged against a wall and took a deep breath. Coulson’s office had felt claustrophobic, an occurrence she attributed entirely to the Black Widow's presence. Part of her was in shock over Phil's casual, even relaxed, demeanor in the woman’s presence. What could've happened in eight months that made him so calm? 

The other part of her was irritated for her own response to the woman. Both unanticipated encounters had rendered Maria unsteady and clumsy. For some unknown reason, insecurity and self-consciousness floated right to the surface in the Widow’s presence and Maria was well on her way to resentment over it. She was a Marine for  god’s sake . She'd been with SHIELD long enough to start carving out a name for herself as an agent. But being around the Widow made her feel like her first day at Parris Island; unsure, nervous, and wary.

Sighing in frustration,  she gathered herself up and proceeded to get to quarters, silently admonishing herself to get a grip. The Widow was just a woman when all was said and done. No sense in losing sleep over someone she didn't even see on a regular basis.

/

“No. No fucking way,” Maria growled. Coulson rolled his eyes.

“You're being unreasonable,” he replied. Maria's eyes widened. She was in his office again, mercifully in just his company. It'd been three months since she'd given him the file; she’d almost forgotten about it. Now, she was regretting having ever placed it into his hands.

“I am not. I just don't see why it has to be me, and more importantly,  _ her _ ,” Maria gasped in exasperation. Coulson’s expression remained calm.

“It's the two of you because it makes sense. I would've thought you'd jump at the opportunity,” he replied. 

“What about Barton?” Maria asked,  ignoring him.

“Barton is off in Germany at the moment. And will be for some  weeks. The directors have decided to move on this now,” Coulson said firmly. Maria just scowled.

“ We don't even know each other,” Maria protested lamely. 

“The flight is long enough to fix that,” Coulson quipped. Maria frowned.

“Phil, why?” she asked seriously. Coulson sighed, realizing that Maria, while an excellent agent and familiar with the notion of following orders, craved logic and reason. Her mind worked too critically for trite ‘because I said so’s’.

“ The report you pulled together on these brokers was good. Excellent in fact.  Deputy Director Fury had every intention of setting up a long term reconnaissance mission for a less seasoned agent. The  idea was simply to get eyes on the actual people involved, not just knowledge of their information  peddling,” Coulson explained calmly. 

“So what changed?”

Coulson’s expression darkened.

“Agent Danvers was apprehended in London after she unfortunately, although I believe unavoidably, exposed herself as an Agent of SHIELD. We’ve tracked her to the group you identified in your report. It isn’t reconnaissance anymore, it’s an extraction, one that needs to be handled quickly and quietly,” Coulson explained. Maria felt her blood go cold.

“They have Carol Danvers?” she asked.  Coulson’s expression remained grim.  Maria and Carol had come into  SHIELD around the same time and had bonded as two of the only women in their recruit  class six years ago.  Maria  was the kind of friend that reminded Carol she occasionally had to be serious while Carol reminded Maria that  relaxing a little bit would not, in fact, kill her.

“Carol is tough. They won't break  her,”  Coulson said. She resisted the urge to scoff at his reassurances.

“What you mean is that she won't break right away. But she's only human. She'll break or die,” Maria replied, voice hard. Coulson nodded.

“Do you get why we’re sending you?” he asked. 

“I understand why you're sending the Black Widow.  This is, well, right up her alley. But why me?” she asked.  What she wasn't saying out loud was that she felt that Carol Danvers deserved the best SHIELD had to offer, and while that might include the Black Widow, it couldn't possibly include her.

“Because without your work we might not have even known about this group.  The dossier we have is the one you created.  It's already your mission.”

Maria looked away, still troubled.

“ Hill?” Coulson asked, kind eyes concerned. Maria looked back at him.

“What if I fuck it up Phil?” she asked quietly. Coulson smiled kindly.

“You won't, because it isn’t an option,” he replied.

“But shit goes wrong all the time,” Maria protested weakly. Coulson shrugged.

“You asked about  _ you _ fucking up. The reality is you  can’t predict  _ all _ the variables. It might be awful. But you, Hill, won’t fuck it up.” 

/

Maria was double checking her repelling harness. She knew it was secure, but the repetition helped steady her. Getting to the roof of the building (where she was currently perched) had required the successful utilization of a zip line using the same harness. But she had to wait after landing, and waiting made her nervous. 

_ “ _ _ I’ve made it to the stairwell on the north  _ _ west side of the building.”  _

The suddenness of the Black Widow’s voice in  Maria’s earpiece made her jump  slightly, inhaling sharply.

“Didn't startle  you did I?” the Widow asked, her voice almost a purr. 

Maria scowled , and not for the first time . She  had been surprised to find out that  the Black Widow kept up a fairly regular commentary when she was on a  comms unit.  Her surprise turned to dismay when she realized that the Black Widow  seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of Maria.

“I'm fine. Repelling in fifteen seconds,”  Maria replied back, voice clipped. 

The plan was fairly simple- the Widow would infiltrate from the ground floor,  Maria from the roof. They'd work to meet somewhere near the middle, which an infrared scan had  shown to be the most likely location for Danvers.

As an added task, the Widow was responsible for adding  a number of distractions along the way to clear a path for their escape while Maria was to secure data from the main computer.

During the pre-mission briefing, Maria was pleasantly surprised to hear the Widow protest any deviation from rescuing Danvers. She agreed of course, but they'd both been overruled. Maria was further disappointed when she learned that Coulson wouldn't be Handling their mission, but instead it would be another agent,  deAcosta . She'd swallowed her protests like a good agent but couldn't disguise her smirk when the Widow remarked, under her breath of course, that they might as well just go alone.

There'd  only  been  one real moment of awkwardness before their departure , one that cemented Maria's loathing for Agent  deAcosta . She’d  just entered the hanger for their  quinjet when she saw  deAcosta in a quiet but obviously heated discussion with  Coulson.

Maria’s expression, initially confused and wondering, hardened when she saw the Black Widow off to the side, her wrists again ensconced in heavy electric manacles. 

She strode up to Coulson and  deAcosta , unsure yet of whom was  deserving of her ire (although she had an idea).

“ Why is she in cuffs?” Maria demanded without preamble.  deAcosta squinted at her.

“I’m surprised at you Hill. She's in cuffs because it's necessary, I was  _ just _ telling Coulson that you’d agree with me,” he remarked defensively. Maria shot a look at Coulson, who, to his credit, kept his smug knowing expression in his eyes rather than throwing it at  deAcosta .

“Why in the world would you think this is necessary?” she remarked.  Realizing he was out an ally,  deAcosta’s expression hardened while the tips of his ears colored red.

“ The Black Widow hasn't yet earned the trust necessary to be free of restriction and supervision off base. I'm sure you’re well aware this is her first assignment  since her defection.”

There was a dangerous moment when Maria thought, for just a moment, that she was going to hit this man.  She locked her body down instead  and satisfied herself with a cold glare.

“If she wanted out,  there isn't a thing on this helicarrier that could stop  her.”

Without waiting for  deAcosta’s reply, she turned on her heel and marched up to the Widow and punched in her security code to undo the manacles. It wasn’t until the  weight was off the Widow’s wrists that she met Maria’s gaze.

For just a moment, there was deep gratitude. And then she turned to enter the quinjet. Maria turned back to her handler, who was red in the face with anger, and Coulson who looked on with a distinct note of pride while he spoke placating words to the younger agent.

Maria shoved the manacles into  deAcosta’s hands without another word and marched up the ramp to join the Widow.

/

Inside the small, nondescript office building, Maria felt her anxiety  humming in her veins. So far, she’d encountered two guards, and that was it. The Widow had encountered three. Security shouldn’t have been so  light but there was nothing to do for it now.

“I’m in the main office,” she whispered into her  comms unit, “it’s empty .  Not a soul around .”

The Widow swore softly in Russian.

“This is trap, Hill,” she replied softly.

“Yeah, I think so,” she muttered back. She inserted a  flashdrive into the computer and after a few keystrokes to bypass the login, was copying the hard drive. The method was somewhat antiquated in Maria's opinion. There might be data to harvest now, but it was likely the most current information was stored in a Cloud. But, orders were orders: copy the hard drive. Her show of defiance in removing the Widow’s cuffs had been too large to risk any more insubordination.

“It’s going to be the third floor. Come down the north west stairs. Lock down the doors as you come,” the Widow whispered. She’d been painstakingly clearing the floors one by one, searching for Carol. Their scan of the building had told them Carol was likely in the center, but the information was now two hours old.

“Any more guards?” Maria asked, moving quietly out of the main office and heading to the stairs.

“ There's been two patrolling each floor so far, now all quietly enjoying naps,”  the Widow responded. Maria grinned at the dry deadpan.

“You realize we’re going to have to fight our way out of here,” she replied conversationally. The lack of security was just too coincidental. She suspected an armed force would be ready for them at the exits. They were too deep in the situation to do anything really but deal with it. Something about the resignation to their fate settled Maria, rather than frazzled her. She liked problems she could solve.

“Of course. deAcosta, are we still clear outside?” the Widow asked. For all he’d been bent to treat her like a prisoner, she’d kept her tone to polite indifference regarding him.

“Streets are empty,” he responded voice tense and clipped. Maria rolled her e yes. She descended the stairwell,  pausing only at each floor to affix external locks to the doors at each landing.  The stairwell wasn’t the planned route of retreat, but both Maria and the Widow agreed they liked creating opportunities.

When Maria rounded the corner to the third floor she was met by the barrel of the pistol in the Widow’s hand, pointed at her face. She rolled her eyes and pushed the gun aside.

“Warm reception,” she muttered. The Widow ignored her.

“ deAcosta , I’m with the Black Widow. We’re going radio silent . We’ll advise when we transition to extraction,” Maria remarked quietly, thumbing the transmitter button at her throat without waiting for the handler’s reply. The Widow looked at her curiously.

“You know,  his actions weren’t necessarily  unexpected,” she ventured. This made Maria bristle.

“Just because other people would’ve done it doesn’t make it  right,” Maria  ground out . They opened the stairwell door, Maria entering first to cover and the Widow secured it behind her.

“But you said it yourself. I’m the Black Widow. People are afraid for a reason,” she said calmly. They proceeded quietly down the darkened hall, tugging on door handles as they went, finding most locked and clearing the rooms when they weren’t. Maria was pleasantly surprised at how seamlessly they moved together.

It was like working with any other agent. This thought gave her pause.

“You’re not just the Black Widow anymore,” she replied finally as they drew up to a  door with  three separate types of locks on the outside. The Widow raised a brow at Maria and Maria was thankful for the tactical suit that concealed the blush creeping up her skin.

“You’re not. Right now you’re my partner and you’re an agent of  SHIELD. Right now, you’re Agent Romanova,” Maria said firmly as she set to work on the two  mechanical locks, leaving the electronic for last.

The Black Widow remained silent, but  Maria could feel the wheels turning. Only after the second lock was undone and Maria moved to the electronic did she hear, “Romanoff.”

She paused and looked up sharply. The Widow wasn’t looking at her but rather keeping her eyes up and on the surrounding hallway. She must’ve sensed Maria’s stare, however, because she offered, “I’m trying  something different, and just…a little new. Natasha Romanoff. Fewer syllables,” she said with a shrug. Maria’s smile was small as she returned her attention to the lock.

“Romanoff suits you.”

/

Carol looked up with angry, rebellious eyes when the door swung open. There was a mask on the lower half of her face Maria instantly recognized as a gag. It was its own form of torture; the device was designed to only allow a restricted amount of air through the nose.

Her eyes widened when she recognized Maria. Maria  wasted no time in removing the mask and setting to work on  other bindings that kept Carol locked to the chair.

“Oh thank God, that thing is a bitch . Hey Hill ,” Carol remarked breathing in a lung full of air and immediately wincing .

“Where are you hurt, Danvers?” Maria asked as she worked.  She could tell by how the woman was sitting she was in pain.

“Ribs.  Left shoulder was dislocated but it’s been popped back in. Right knee is probably not so great,” she replied. At her tone, Romanoff turned and actually looked at Carol’s right leg.  The pant leg was torn, damp with blood.  She met Carol’s eyes and raised a brow in question. Carol rolled her own.

“Just a hammer, nothing torn on the inside,” she responded defensively.  Maria glanced between the two of them, amused at their nonchalance.

“ You’ve a gift for understatement,” Romanoff replied dryly. Carol just grinned.

“Finely tuned, too. You’re  the Black Widow,” she said, eyes bright with enthusiasm.  Romanoff chuckled softly.

“ Agent Romanoff, or so I’ve been told for this context.” Another quick glance up told Maria that there was no condescension meant,  and just a little teasing fondness.

“I’m flattered  they chose you to pick me up . Didn't know Nick cared ,” Carol responded.

“What about me, asshole?” Maria remarked. With a last twist the cuffs fell off Carol's hands. Maria saw now that her wrists were rubbed raw, probably from all the pulling and straining. Carol slowly brought her hands to her front, wincing at the movement in her shoulder. 

“Maria, I'm always happy to see you,” Carol replied tightly slowly rolling her shoulders. Maria's hand came to clasp her good shoulder.

“Time to get you out of here,” she said. 

She switched on her  comms transmitter. 

“ Hill to  deAcosta , we have Danvers,” she said. 

No response.

“ deAcosta ,” Maria said again. 

Silence.

“Romanoff to  deAcosta ,”  Romanoff tried, to no avail.

“Well fuck,” Maria sighed. Romanoff chuckled lightly.

“ You sound surprised.”

“Guys, what's going on?” Carol asked with growing concern.

“Security was extremely light reaching you. We suspect a trap.  They seem to have already apprehended our handler , or at least that's my theory ,” Romanoff answered.

“Jared deAcosta is handling? He’s a fucking moron,” Carol groaned.

“Well even if it isn’t a trap, we can’t just stay here,” Maria remarked. She stepped over to Carol, squatting down and pulling her good arm over her shoulder.

“One, two, and up,” she whispered. Carol hauled herself to her feet with a muffled groan,  leaning heavily into Maria.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” Maria said. Carol forced a smirk onto her now pale face.

“Keep the sentimentality at a  minimum jarhead,” Carol  remarked quietly. Maria just rolled her eyes and nodded at Romanoff.

Romanoff took point, sweeping the hallway quickly and beckoning Maria out.

Slowly, the trio shuffled their way to the north west stairwell. They descended as quietly as possible, but Carol was clammy and shaking by the time they reached the bottom. 

“This is the building lobby. They’ll be waiting here,” Romanoff said.

“You get a chance to leave them any surprises?” Maria asked. The smile Romanoff gave was  completely devoid of humor.

“Right. Well. Lead the way then,” Maria replied.

/

The chain of events followed thusly:

They entered the main lobby and were met with immediate gunfire.  Romanoff provided cover while Maria hauled a yowling Carol behind a decorative pillar.

“ Make yourself useful,” Maria growled and slapped a pistol and a thigh holster with three extra magazines  into Carol’s hands. Maria brought her rifle to her shoulder and broke cover  shooting controlled rounds that found new homes in the necks  and faces of  attackers.

Sensing more freedom to move, Romanoff darted behind the large (fortunately steel desk) at the back of the lobby. She fished a detonator from a pocket and with a single cry of warning mashed the button.

The blast, concentrated on the points of entry from the outside of the building, was strong enough to knock Maria to  her back with a huff. Romanoff grabbed her by the shoulder  and hauled her behind the desk. Maria took the opportunity to shake away her slight disorientation. Romanoff disappeared almost immediately to retrieve Carol. The pair returned as gunfire began to ring out again.

“You need to cross the lobby, keep following this wall . There’s a locked service stairwell . I’ve rigged it with something to blow the handle off. There's a hallway beyond it and the service exit  past that .  I’ll cover you while you move,” Romanoff said calmly. Maria’s eyes widened.

“What, no! We’re not leaving you behind,” Maria exclaimed. Romanoff opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a yell from the front of the lobby.

“Cease fire I say!” were the first words they could make out.

“Black Widow! Romanova! We know you’re here. Surrender yourself and we’ll allow the SHIELD agents to escape!” The voice shouted.  Romanoff huffed a small, humorless laugh and looked up at Maria.

“See, even they agree with the plan,” Romanoff remarked.

“How do they even know you’re here?” Maria asked.

“It doesn’t matter now. You need to go.”

“I am not leaving you,” Maria growled. Romanoff’s eyes flashed.

“Get Danvers out,  _ that’s _ mission objective. I won’t surrender. But I’ll hold them off  as long as I can,” Romanoff said. She reached around her belt and removed a grenade, depressing the handle and removing the pin.

“It’s not up for discussion,” Romanoff replied. Without another word she threw the grenade in a beautiful arc over the  desk. Screams rang out and gunfire began anew.

Romanoff backed up away from the desk, away from Maria, and leaning slightly to the side of cover, began to return fire.

Her face twisting angrily, Maria again drew Carol’s arm over her  shoulder and moved to the door Romanoff had indicated.

For her part, Romanoff breathed a sigh of relief at the smaller pop of the lock mechanism blowing for Maria.

She shot until she was out of rounds. Sensing her loss of long range lethal ability, the attackers closed in.  She let them, answering them with pistol fire until those too ran dry. 

She exhausted her arsenal of knives and when she was finally down to her fists she  felt the barest twinge of exhaustion. She shoved it away as she leapt forward to land a double kick in the chest of  one attacker, back flipping away to land on the shoulders of another, turning and tightening her thighs at the  same time, effectively flipping them over and landing on her  hands and the balls of her feet.

A few more received  electrical currents to the jugular, along with dislocated and separated shoulders and kneecaps. 

The flurry of activity ended when she just wasn’t quite high enough as she dove into the air from the desk to soar over an attacker. He leapt up and snagged her ankle, ripping her painfully to the ground.

It was about over then. Despite her efforts they were finally able to pin her arms and legs, after a rough kick to her head sent her reeling and her vision swimming.

Forced to her knees, a well dressed man, obviously free from the fighting,  leaned in close to her, snagging her jaw and neck to force her eyes to look at him.

_ His eyes are cruel _ Romanoff thought dimly. In a kinder face, his hazel eyes might be beautiful. But as it was, they looked more like a death sentence.

“ I have so many things to ask you,” he breathed,  expression just past manic.

Romanoff would've liked to have said something delightfully witty, but her head was swimming and well, three stinger grenades went off simultaneously, followed quickly by two cans of CS gas. The remaining attackers cried out, gagging and running. The man holding Romanoff tried to haul her up, but she, mustering what energy she could through her own gag reflex, hit him twice, in the jaw and the temple. He crumpled to the ground.

She staggered to her feet, completely disoriented now, until a hand grabbed the shoulder of her LBV  and yanked her toward the service stairwell.

She grabbed at the wrist, readying to rip herself  free when, Maria, eyes only slightly obscured by the  pane on her gas mask, turned to stare at her pointedly. Romanoff released her wrist, eyes unreadable as the y watered involuntarily  and moved along with her.

/

Maria flew the  quinjet , relishing the  predawn, when Romanoff gingerly lowered herself into the  copilot seat.

Their mad dash from the office building had only been paused once, and briefly, to retrieve  deAcosta , who they found passed out on the roof of his building perch. In his  defense , he’d been hit with a  tranquilizing agent courtesy of a  long distance dart. Maria argued that if he’d been better concealed or paying attention to his surroundings, he might’ve been fine. Romanoff didn’t reply but just helped load the man into their stolen vehicle and then the quinjet; although, gentleness was not in the handling.

Maria glanced at her as she sat down, thinking she looked considerably better than she had when they'd made their initial escape. Simultaneous exposure to OC and CS was no walk in the park, especially on top of previous injuries incurred in the fight.

Really, she looked better than she had any  right to.

“It's not fair you know,” Maria remarked.

“What isn't?” Romanoff asked.

“You look basically like a barely beat up version of yourself. I’m useless when I'm coming back from a chemical agent exposure,” Maria remarked. Romanoff’s smirk was amused but a little sad.

“ It’s not a skill worth cultivating,” she replied. Maria's stomach dropped a little.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“For what?” Romanoff asked, seemingly genuinely surprised.

“I didn't mean to make light of anything you've gone through,” Maria said, shrugging a shoulder.

“You're odd Maria Hill,” Romanoff said. Maria scoffed.

“Why, because  I don't  enjoy being an insensitive asshole?” she asked dryly. 

“ Because you act as though I deserve  sensitivity,” Romanoff said firmly.

“Of course you do, you're a person.  What's more, you're my teammate, even if you conveniently like to forget that,” Maria scoffed. 

“I get the feeling you’re angry with me,” Romanoff said in a tone of mock wonder. Maria laughed quietly. Carol was sleeping in the back.

“Angry isn't the right word. I  just don't understand why you think you're expendable,” Maria said. 

“It's not about expandability.  Just practicality. You needed cover to get out. To accomplish the mission objective,” Romanoff said.

“The objective isn't everything.  It's only a success if everyone gets to go home,” Maria rejoined.

“ That's just sentimentality.”

“ It’s what's right Romanoff. Listen, there may come a day when  some sort of heroic gesture of  self sacrificing  martyrdom is necessary, but it wasn’t today, not by a long shot. So stop looking for opportunities to sacrifice yourself. There's too much to do,” Maria snapped.

Romanoff looked almost surprised and confused.  Quite suddenly, Maria wanted to know what thoughts were swirling in the assassin’s mind. She wanted to understand why the  woman didn't think she mattered. But  now wasn’t the time and they weren't friends.  That was a conversation for friends.

“Look, I don't know what you went through or what you've done or what was done to you. Hell, I don’t even know why you came to SHIELD. But you're here now. I'm not a  priest, and sacrificing yourself isn't penance. I am, however, your teammate. And I don’t-

She paused to swallow back painful memories of heat, and sand, and screaming and blood with a small sigh and shake of her head.

“I don't leave teammates behind, not when I can help it.”

Romanoff  sat contemplatively.

“And even if leaving me behind would've been the loss of an agency asset?” She finally asked, tone guarded.

“You're not just  Black Widow anymore, remember? I went back for Natasha Romanoff . I would've gone back for any agent .” Maria said firmly.

“Jesus Christ, are you done with the sappy bullshit yet?” Carol crowed from the back of the jet. Maria huffed in exasperation.

“ Glad you're starting to feel better, Danvers,” she remarked with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

“It's like the fucking Hallmark Channel up there,” Carol said. Natasha snorted, quietly amused.

“I’m starting to understand the gag,” Maria muttered.

“I heard that jerk. But Maria’s right you know. No more self-sacrificing bullshit Romanoff. It's entirely overrated.”

“She's a complete hypocrite,” Maria breathed softly.

“I heard that too. Just  fly the bird Hill, before I decide to do it for you, ” Carol  replied , a smile in her voice.

“ Go back to sleep,” Maria snapped.

Natasha looked from Maria and back to Carol, finding herself at ease in their company and for the first time, in the quiet glory of the sunrise shining through the window, feeling just a little like she belonged.

Maria flashed a her a smile.

“You'll get used to it Romanoff.”

**Author's Note:**

> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines
> 
> You matter. You're loved.


End file.
